


(Due) Influence

by penny



Category: Persona 3
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Gloves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-26
Updated: 2011-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-15 02:18:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penny/pseuds/penny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Tell me you don't want this," she says as she crosses the short distance between them and backs him against the wall, "and I'll stop." She would probably sound more convincing if she wasn't sliding her thigh between his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Due) Influence

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt _Mitsuru/Akihiko, gloves, truth_
> 
> Spoilers the July full moon.

There's a moment when she could get away with saying it's some lingering influence of the Shadows, but she won't lie. Not to Akihiko. She...she _wants_. She probably always has, at least since they founded SEES. How often had she woken to a fleeting dream sensation of his gloved hand on her breast, her mound, or between her folds?

She can't remember her excuse for knocking on his door. Something convincing enough to get inside his room. "Tell me you don't want this," she says as she crosses the short distance between them and backs him against the wall, "and I'll stop." She would probably sound more convincing if she wasn't sliding her thigh between his.

She should give him a chance to say no. Perhaps she is still under some lingering Shadow effect. She's not normally so forward.

He huffs out a laugh. "Tell me _you_ want this." He reaches up and runs a thumb along the line of her jaw, the leather of his gloves cool against her skin. "That you're Mitsuru."

"Who else would I be?"

He grips her chin, holds her in place to meet her gaze. She closes her eyes, shudders. She's been carrying this pool of warmth in the pit of her stomach ever since their return from Shirukawa Boulevard. It flares now. No wonder Akihiko is concerned. This both is and isn't her.

"Look at me, Mitsuru."

It's an order. She should make him work harder for her compliance, but it's _Akihiko_. She won't force him. And she won't lie to him.

"I do want this." She can smell the leather of his gloves, and beneath that, the menthol in the sports cream he uses.

"Mitsuru."

She meets his eyes. "I'm not normally like this, I know. But...I _do_ want this. I've wanted for a long time, even before."

He considers her. She holds still, her nerves strumming. It wouldn't take much to lean in and claim a kiss. Well, not much if he'd let her. He won't bruise her jaw with his grip, but it's strong enough to fend her off if she pushes too far.

Fend. That's what cuts through the warmth. She's putting Akihiko, her friend, her most important person outside of her family, in a position where he will have to fight her off in order to refuse her. That's not her. She licks her lips -- and oh, is it tempting to just slide her tongue a little to the left for a quick swipe at his gloves -- then draws back, sliding her thigh out from between his.

He does not let go of her jaw, but he does loosen his grip enough that she can break free. If she wants to. She doesn't.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so aggressive."

He laughs again, that same dry huff. "I don't mind aggression as long as I know it's yours." He releases her, fusses with the cuff of his glove like he's going to take it off.

"Leave them on." She catches his wrist and kneels in front of him, bringing his fingers to her lips.

His eyes widen as she licks at his fingers, tongue swiping down between them. Then she sucks his first two in, moaning at the press of them against her tongue. The taste of the leather mingles with the scent and catches in the back of her throat. Her fingers dip under the cuff of his gloves, and she can feel the jump in his pulse.

He's staring down at her, his expression faintly shocked. His works his mouth, and it takes moment for him to say, "Okay. The aggression's yours."

She runs her free hand up his leg, over his crotch. He's half hard, and his cock is a pleasant press against her palm. She strokes him through his pants until he moans. She slides her tongue between his fingers, sucks on them lewdly, and it feels so good to let go and give into the _wants_ she's been denying herself because she is Mitsuru Kirijo, and Mitsuru Kirijo tends to her duties, not her desires.

But she's safe to indulge with Akihiko. He won't fault her for having desires. He won't judge her for expressing them as long as she's honest.

And these are her honest desires. If there's any lingering Shadow influence, it's just bringing out what already exists in her. She unzips his fly.

He groans and slides his free hand along her temple, knots his fingers in her hair. "You're going to...?"

She draws back. "I want to taste you. Touch yourself."

He raises his hand to his mouth, presses the fingers she'd just been sucking on against his lips, and she has to laugh.

"That's not what I mean."

He smirks. "No? Maybe you should be more explicit."

Oh, she can rise to that challenge. "Stroke yourself hard for me." She lowers her lashes and tries to look coy. "Please, Akihiko?"

"Oh, god, Mitsuru." His hand shakes a bit as he obeys.

It's a gorgeous sight, but Mitsuru doesn't have the patience to watch for too long. She leans in and licks the back of his knuckles, then the length of his shaft. Akihiko groans. The sound slices through her, unlocks the warmth in her core, and she loses track of herself. His fingers are tight in her hair, painful but in the good way that grounds her. All she knows is the taste of Akihiko, of his gloves and his skin and his precum, and all she knows is the feel of him thick on her tongue, the slide of him down her throat. And she wants, she wants, she _wants_.

"Mitsuru," he says, and he tenses, then comes, and she relishes the feel of it, the taste of it. She has no choice but to swallow, but there's still too much, and she can feel some at the corner of her mouth as he withdraws, panting.

He runs his thumb along her bottom lip, catches the excess come, and meets her eyes as she leans back, palms flat against the floor. There's open lust in his gaze as he licks his come from his glove. He kneels and nudges her legs apart, pressing his palms against the inside of her knees. "My turn now?"

She smiles and leans back on her elbows. "Yes." She spreads her legs wider, feeling cool air against her moist panties. "Please."


End file.
